they don't know what i've been through like you
by SparkleMouse
Summary: Elliot's arms are around her before she's even stepped forward, a vice keeping her anchored, and she rests her cheek on his shoulder. There's a hint of her son on his skin and right now, it's everything. - A post ep of sorts for 17x15 -
Winter feels bitter tonight.

It's not so much the temperature - no, the cold feels like a much needed relief against the heat of her skin - but instead it's the telling of Hank Abraham's verdict reverberating in her head, the resigned tone of Pippa Cox's voice as she sealed herself to this fate. The memories slice Olivia's skin with each gust of wind, and she digs her hands into her pockets, her bag tucked tightly in the crook of her arm.

Sitting on that bench in the courtroom, she had told Pippa she got it, and the sad truth is, she almost does. She's been in this job too long, seen the world no longer in black and white, but in a million shades of gray. She's made her own mistakes over the years, sacrificed pieces of herself she never would have imagined seventeen years ago when she walked through the doors to SVU with a mission to save everyone like her mother.

Olivia's startled out of her thoughts by the sound of Tucker's voice, and for a moment, she had almost forgotten she'd left the precinct with him.

"Abraham's family, how do they start over after this?"

"I can't even think about it." But it's all she's thinking about. It'll sit with her for the rest of the night, into tomorrow, for days and weeks later. The worst ones always do.

"You up for a nightcap?"

Olivia smiles at him. "Thank you, but I should head home." He nods politely and before she walks away, she touches his shoulder lightly. "Ed. Thanks for your help with this."

"Anytime, Lieutenant. I'll see you soon."

He walks away and she turns in the opposite direction, toward the subway. Before heading down the steps, she grabs her phone, typing out a quick text.

 _On my way home. This day has been hell._

She's not even down the stairs before the return text comes in.

 _Wine's already poured. Plate of food in microwave. See you soon._

* * *

It's nearing ten when she unlocks the door to her apartment. There's a faint glow coming from her bedroom, but she relishes in the quiet darkness, and inside the confines of safety, she finally breathes. It smells like home; like Noah and laundry detergent, like the smell of candles she had lit the night and the lingering scent of Elliot's cologne.

She can hear his footsteps in the bedroom and there's relief in knowing that he was with Noah today, that he's here now. She tosses her bag onto the couch and heads toward the kitchen. Like promised, the wine is already poured, and she takes a long sip. The deep red is like air as it calms her nerves, steadies her breathing.

"Hey."

Olivia closes her eyes at the sound of his voice. It's deep, gruff, filled with an understanding of the pain siphoning through her blood. She places the glass back on the counter and turns around. His arms are around her before she's even stepped forward, a vice keeping her anchored, and she rests her cheek on his shoulder. There's a hint of her son on his skin and right now, it's everything.

His hands are in her hair and she can feel the tears in her eyes, the dam that's threatening to break. He had once been beside her for so many years that he knows her by sheer instinct alone. He can calm her with whispered words, with the lightest of touches.

It takes a minute for her to back away and in his eyes she sees their history, their future. "How's Noah?"

Elliot grabs her wine glass and pulls her to the couch. There's already an opened bottle of beer on the table, the condensation sweating onto an old _People_ magazine. "I bathed him. Went down like a light."

"You're good with him."

"Well, I have five of my own. I learned a few things along the way."

She smiles, and it's on nights like these - even with the hell of the job - that she realizes she's gotten everything she's ever wanted, including the man she once called her partner. It's an ache in her chest, beautiful and almost surreal, and sometimes she finds herself staring at his text messages wondering if it's a figment of her imagination. But he's beside her, his chest comforting against her back, his palm splayed across her thigh in protection.

"You okay?"

"I will be." Olivia grabs her glass of wine and runs her finger along the base. "I can't get Pippa's face out of my head. You should have seen her, El. How distraught she was. She's been with Hank for twelve years. She has two kids with him. She advocates for children. How do you move on after that?" She takes a drink, but it does nothing to wash away the memories. "Their daughter is back to sucking her thumb. Their son isn't speaking. Pippa has been suspended. He ruined his entire life, the lives of his family. It's on days like today I wish I had gotten out."

"It's been five years since I've been in that job, Liv, and it still sits with me on some days. Getting out doesn't change all the things we've dealt with. All you can do is remind yourself that you're still out there making a difference. Lieutenant."

Olivia turns in his arms and laughs at his cocky smile. "Shut up."

She leans up and presses her lips to his, gentle and reassuring. Her forehead rests against his and she's a tangle of mixed emotions. Grateful. Bruised. Happy. Devastated.

"Thanks for taking Noah today." She slides over on the couch so she's facing him, digging her toes underneath his thighs. "What did you end up doing?"

"I had Eli this morning so we took Noah to Central Park. Did you know your son tries to kick pigeons?"

"So does yours from what I remember. Where do you think Noah learned it from?"

"He treats him like a brother, you know."

He says it like it's the most natural thing in this world and after all this time, maybe it is. "He has four older siblings. I'm sure Eli's thrilled to have someone younger to boss around for once."

The silence is comfortable when it settles, and without a word, Elliot pours more wine into her glass. "I think Tucker asked me out again tonight."

"You didn't want to rub it in his smug face that we're dating? Pompous jackass," he mutters.

"He's...redeeming himself."

"Liv, come on," Elliot's responds, skeptically.

"People change. You have."

"I was never that big of an asshole. And before you say anything that proves otherwise, I'm going to remind you there's food in the microwave. You should eat something."

"I'm not hungry." The video monitor on the table emits the small sounds of Noah's snoring and watches her son sleeping peacefully, curled up around his favorite blanket that Elliot had bought for him weeks ago. The weight of this case shifts in her again, takes hold of her heart. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm one case away from losing it."

"You're not me, Liv. This job has made you stronger. More compassionate. More loving. It's made you an incredible mother and protector. It's hard. It'll always be hard. But you know this is where you belong."

"I love you."

"You should remember that when you walk into Noah's room in the morning. We might have gotten carried away with the Legos."

In truth, it probably makes her love him more. "And you'll clean that up in the morning, I assume?"

"Sure thing, Lieu-"

She kisses him to shut him up and he laughs into her mouth, his hand tightening around her waist.

"I can't believe I'm stuck putting up with you again."

"Poor decision on your part."

"Don't remind me," she jokes. "What did you build? A castle?"

"Millennium Falcon."

There's a chance she might have to sneak into Noah's room before morning to see this masterpiece. "Definitely worth the mess then."

"If you're not gonna eat, let's get you to bed." Elliot grabs her hand and pulls her up. She stumbles behind him, allowing him to lead her into the bedroom. "I told Maureen we'd be at the house around noon tomorrow. If you can't make it, she'll understand."

"Unless an emergency comes up, I wouldn't miss it." Olivia strips out of her jeans and climbs under the covers. "You have a one year old granddaughter. How did that happen?"

"Really, Liv? The birds and the bees talk?"

"You're funny, Gramps."

Elliot winces. "And you're cruel."

He doesn't make a comment about how she had curled into bed wearing the shirt she's had on all day, one tarnished with memories of the outcome of the Hank Abraham case. Instead, he pulls her in closer and she rests her head on his chest, feels the beating of his heart beneath her ear.

"I might be a grandfather, but I can still kick the crap out of Tucker."

She reaches up blindly, pressing her finger to his lips. "Drop it, El."

Olivia falls asleep fifteen minutes into his tirade, the whisper of a smile never leaving her lips.


End file.
